As evening falls
by planet p
Summary: AU; sometimes, the past intersects with the present in strange and unforeseeable ways.


_Evening be; evening by,_

_By and by,_

_I'd love to be,_

_Be yours,_

_Before long, I make it a goal,_

_Make it real, if I try real hard,_

_I'll try real hard,_

_By and by,_

_Then I'll be,_

_Be yours._

* * *

Evening Rush; sixteen. Even, Eve, Evey.

She plans to be a singer, a damn right successful one, too. She plans for her future, plans for their future.

It isn't her responsibility, but she loves her baby brother, so it's only natural.

He'll need a good school, top of the range, for when he's grown up. He's four; next year he'll be five; time to start school.

She won't having him going to any old ratty school, big sister's promise.

She likes to write songs, well, rhymes. She writes them in a notebook she's decided she'll one day give to Nicholas for his sixteenth birthday. Then he'll be able to have a right, old laugh at her.

It's so hard to make him smile sometimes – more and more, as he's grown – but it's worth every figurative penny, and more.

He has her hair, not her eyes, mind, but her hair, and that's special. Even if he hadn't, he'd always be special to her.

How can he not be; he's her baby brother. She loves him like she loves breathing, or singing, or the sun.

Sometimes, she loves him more.

It's not hard for her to lie, because she knows it's completely the best thing in the world for him. Can't say: _mother and father love you, very, very much, but, guess what, they're not your mother and father. I'm your mother._

It's not like it's even a big, big thing. They're his grandparents, or one half of them, and they love him beyond anything. And they _are_ his parents.

She is his sister; so shall she remain so.

* * *

Even, for Nicholas's father; Eve, for her parents – Nicholas's grandparents – and Evey, for Nicholas. Evening, for herself. (These are her names, she is these people, all of them, and sometimes, none of them.)

None of them because of the lie. She knows she can't possibly make it okay; she can't possibly tell. But she wants to be his mother, she wants to be able to call him the names mother's call their children. So badly, she sometimes wants it.

But she can never have it.

She'd never give him up, take him back, not for the whole world, but her world is only half of a world, because the one person who makes her world real, her baby, is the one person she has to pretend she is someone else to; pretend the world is something else.

She doesn't think of it as divine punishment for what she did; Allison might, but that's not her. But it kills her at night; every night it kills her again.

He'd made her alive again, given her life purpose and reason again, and now she's dying for it.

Evening is the worst.

* * *

Evening. An indescribable name, his sister's name. Why, nobody had ever told him. He barely remembered anymore, having had a sister. He'd been four when she'd… forgotten herself, that was how he remembered the police had put it, just forgotten herself; forgotten where she was.

His mother told him things sometimes, things like how he'd used to call her Evey, and he was the only one who ever did; not even Allie, her best friend, had called her Evey. She wouldn't have had it, either. It was Eve, unless it was Nicholas.

He didn't remember that. He didn't say so, but that didn't make it untrue, didn't make the memory come back.

For a long time, he'd forgotten he'd even had a sister, then, one day, he'd just figured that the photograph of the young woman he'd found had to be of his sister, and, sure enough, there, on the back of the photograph had been her name: Eve – Nicholas's first birthday.

He'd been fifteen, then, and the embarrassment had followed him around for days. How a person could forget their own sister seemed inescapable and impossible to him, though he'd managed it, somehow.

For eleven years, no less.

Evey: there was nothing to go along with the name, not even a stirring of feeling.

He only felt worse.

What kind of a person he must be.

* * *

Chloe is singing, such an ordinary, _annoying_ activity, and he just thinks: Evey used to do that.

It shakes him, as though he'd banged his head good on something earlier in the day and was just starting to realise it now, but there's been no head trauma.

"I'd appreciate if you'd rather not," he says.

"I'm asleep," she replies, in a breath. "Keep walking."

"Asleep?" He's dubious; actually, he's fairly well damn sure she's not asleep.

"Yes, I'm sleeping," she answers, then frowns, giving in. "I'm _trying_ to sleep."

"And what of the rest of us, who _are_ sleeping?" he questions.

"That's not you," she points out. "You're awake. And we're nowhere near the crew's quarters, I'll have you know, Dopey."

He frowns, unsure what she means by the 'dopey' comment.

"Do you like _Bette Davis Eyes_?" she asks.

"I wouldn't know it," he replies, truthfully.

"Mother's favourite." She laughs. "Silly, but I can't remember how a single of my favourites goes." Her posture sinks, a little, then, and she grins. "Cover your ears," she advises, and begins her rendition of _Apple, Peaches, Pumpkin Pie_.

He looks at the floor, feeling increasingly uncomfortable.

Laughing hysterically, she holds out her hands, pulling it together enough to switch to _Midnight Confessions_. How absurd that she remembers so many of her mother's favourite songs, but none of her father's!

Rush shakes his head, _no, thank you._

Grinning, she reaches out and takes up his hands in hers before he can step far enough back, victory bright on her cheeks. "You can't tell me you don't like dancing," she says.

"I abhor it, actually," he replies, apparently entirely serious.

Which starts her on laughing again; she's unstoppable. "What's your favourite song?" she gasps, between peels of laughter.

"My sister wanted to be a singer," he says, for some daft reason. _Excuse me?_

The laughter stops; imaginary snap of the fingers. "She's… she's not a singer?" Chloe asks; can't say: _She's dead._

"Yes."

A frown appears across Chloe's formerly laughing face.

"Yes, she's not a singer; no," he hastily corrects. "She's…" But Chloe's small nod curtails the need for a finish.

Chloe squeezes his hands tighter, and he remembers that she's actually holding them. He'd like them back, but…

"My father's dead, too," she says, though he already knows it.

(It's been _his_ fault for some time, now.)

"It wasn't your fault, you know," she says. "It wasn't anyone's fault. It… needed to be done; it was done, that's all." She sighs, loosening her hold on his hands; still, she keeps holding them. "Let's not be enemies anymore, okay?" She frowns. "What do you say?"

He frowns, now, too. Then, "I don't know." He can't believe he just said that, but he can't take it back anymore; it's out there, now.

"If it's not working," she adds, "we could… I don't know, go back to being enemies, if you wanted." A smile curves her lips, slightly.

He tosses his head, apprehensive.

Her lips un-curve.

"Alright," he breathes, and it's akin to admitting defeat. He feels… lousy, but… something else, too.

Chloe grins brightly, her lips in full curve. "Won't you dance with me?" she asks, grinning wider. "It'll help me sleep."

He chokes. The nerve of her!

"Naughty Chloe!" she mouths. "Mustn't put ideas into others' heads. Go to your room!"

He coughs, determined not to choke again, and, slowly, nods.

Chloe does a little scream. "That's a 'yes'?"

He shakes his head violently. "You should go to bed," he says.

She swings her arms a bit, still holding his hands. "You can dance, can't you? Come on, _everyone_ can! Even my _mom_!" She laughs, picturing that.

For some reason, the sound warms him. He tells himself it's something else; it's not Chloe's laugh.

He goes still; thinks about it twice. "Then you'll retire to your quarters; definitely, yes?"

Chloe's eyes light up. "Definitely!" she beams.

He drops his shoulders, just a little. "Then, I suppose… I could…"

Chloe's hands let go of his, and, suddenly, he feels alone, and… and frightened. Just as suddenly, a moment later, she retakes up his hands, one, and then the other, and he feels a jolt of fright, sharper than before, but it's… it's okay, because he's not the only one who's afraid.

Chloe's smiling, but he sees that she's unsure, too.

And, suddenly, it's totally okay.

Suddenly, they can dance.

And they do.

(For Chloe's father, for Gloria; for Evey.)

By the end, they've forgotten that they'd been frightened before they'd begun, and Chloe is still smiling.

He listens to the sound of her footsteps departing, becoming quieter and quieter.

He smiles.

* * *

**As evening falls** by planet p

**Disclaimer** I don't own _Stargate: Universe_ or any of its characters.


End file.
